the first one is always the sweetest

so here it is. sweetness in type.

outside its cold, somewhat cloudy, both in air and aire. inside, though, its lovely, toasty, the dogs, Zoe and Saul, are curled into each other at the base of the stairs. sure things could be better, but they could be a hell of a lot worse, and since its neither, i'm just going to enjoy the simplicity of normality. of normalcy. of being home, of being in a home, a structure built with more than just maneur and grass. but then, when i was in a muck, mud and grass hut, i was pretty thankful. more thankful, actually.
i wonder what that means? when you're forced to have nothing over your head but what you normally walk on; what protects you from the elements is in fact an element and in some instances causes more grief than relief; when you're living within walls made of poo, currently inhabited by roaches and beetles and termites, that you can find it in your soul to be grateful, thankful, indebted. yet, when you're in a home, and the dictionary confirms this as a fact in our realm, with walls, and paint, and windows (with glass), and a door, and a heater and with love hanging from every hook, every artifact is a memory of something someone you love enjoyed enough to bring home, that you can sometimes then find yourself ungrateful.
shocking. i know.
gross even.

but then you make yourself understand the importance or relevance. of reality. that there are different realities that help you assess your situation. some make up realities for their own good, own evil, whichever. but some, most i hope, just need a nudge in the right direction with the right inflection and suddenly, you're grateful for everything, everything, every bit of paper, every photograph, every paw print, every toothbrush, every pillow.
and you should be.

tonight, i'm grateful. its a lovely feeling. one i hope to employ daily.
maybe that will be my resolution. my constitution.